The Beautiful and Brokenhearted
by V.M. Bell
Summary: *STAND-ALONE FIC* She thought it would last until eternity, but then eternity came...


The tears dry as new ones form, cascading down her soft cheek. The brisk autumn breeze flies by, the leaves rustling, brushing her curly hair to one side. But she takes no notice of this. Her clothes reflect her station in life. It is evident she is rather wealthy. Her husband is a Keeper for the Chudley Cannons, and he makes a fair amount of money. She makes quite a sum herself, being a professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. But her life is not a joyous one, though that is what she first expected it to be from the very first day the letter came.  
  
Hermione Granger had just graduated from Hogwarts, and she was, on this fateful day, sitting alone in her study room, pouring over the Charms book Harry had given her as a graduation present. A rattling noise caused her to look up. Ron's owl was tapping the window furiously with his beak. Sighing, she stood up to open the window. I wonder what Ron has to say to me, she thought. Well, it might be the present he'd said he would give me. Hermione took the scroll from Pig and strode back to her desk, unrolling it and placing it flat on the table.  
  
Dear Hermione,  
  
You might be expecting the graduation present I never gave you. Well, if you wish to know what it is, meet me outside your house tomorrow at 6 in the morning.  
  
Ron  
  
That's strange, she thought. Why that early?  
  
Oh, if only she had known what it was Ron wanted with her. She stares off into the distance, remembering what had happened in this very spot four years ago.  
  
She was dressed by half past five and was outside two minutes later. Her stomach grumbled; she had yet to eat, but at the prospect of seeing Ron, food did not matter. Only Ron. She looked down at her watch: ten minutes to go - what did Ron want with her anyway? - five minutes - I can't believe it's still dark and he wants me out here - three - Couldn't he have just told me what he was going to give me in that letter? - two - it would have been easier - one - right? She heard a pop nearby. Spinning around, she found herself face-to-face with Ron.  
  
This is her favorite memory. She thinks of it with pride.  
  
Hermione's eyes grew wide and she blushed. Ron Weasley was standing next to her, dressed up in a suit. She was wearing only a sweater and a pair of jeans. They greeted each other jovially and asked what has happened since they last met. But then it seemed as if a heavy blanket settled over them, suddenly turning everything serious. Ron looked at Hermione straight in the eye, and her smile disappeared. Yet she still looked happy, in a way. Ron bent down on one knee and took a little box out of his pocket.  
  
"Hermione, will you marry me?"  
  
Behind the couple, the sun rose, spilling crimson into the sky.  
  
Smiling slightly, she looks ahead still, recalling how blissful it all felt, how she thought it couldn't have possibly been real. But it was. She hears footsteps behind her. Turning around slowly, only vaguely wondering whom it might be, she sees Ron walking down the steps, a suitcase in each hand. The crying resumes. This is it. It's the end of happiness.  
  
He bids her farewell without looking up at her tear-stained face. He sticks out his right hand and a purple bus appears seemingly out of nowhere. He climbs up the stairs and the door closes behind him. She has an urge to run after him, to tell him she is sorry for all that has happened, to kiss him one last time. But she knows it is hopeless.  
  
The Knight Bus disappears.  
  
She retrieves something from her pocket. It is a rather old piece of parchment, and she muses why she has kept it, even after all of these years. Has it really been so long since her fourth year? She rips it in half and leaves part of it on the pavement. She keeps the other part. She walks back up the stairs, trying to contain her sobbing.  
  
The parchment she holds reads "HERMIONE".  
  
The other reads "WEASLEY". 


End file.
